


cashmere, cologne, and white sunshine

by ssaki99



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Drama, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssaki99/pseuds/ssaki99
Summary: Aaron Hotchner was not a man who liked being told what to do, but when Strauss feels the BAU needs an extra set of hands, Y/N is hired as their new secretary.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Reader, Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 37
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter One: The Power of Youth is on My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> HI! 
> 
> Long time no see! Welcome to my new multi-chapter story called ‘Cologne, Cashmere, and White Sunshine,’ I hope you all enjoy it! This is the sugardaddy!Hotch story I have been talking about for so long! Also, this story is LOOSELY inspired by the movie from 2002, Secretary, which is where the name ‘Mr. Grey’ originated for 50 Shades. It’s a seriously raw and realistic film surrounding a Dom/Sub relationship, which there will be slight natures in this story. 
> 
> Each chapter will be marked accordingly to TW if necessary. This first chapter does not involve anything related, but you can expect some topics in the future!
> 
> I do not own Criminal Minds nor the characters. 
> 
> As always, I LOVE hearing from you all!

Aaron Hotchner was not a man who liked being told what to do. He would never admit it, but deep down, he knew he was somewhat of a control freak. 

He was a man who had his life organized down to which tie he was going to wear each day of the week. His house was always spotless, his office pristine, his overall life...there was a spot for every part that fit—nothing more, nothing less. 

Aaron Hotchner was a man who had a system. He felt confident in his ability to run the BAU, despite Erin Strauss’s constant doubts. Strauss was someone who was on his back from the first day in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Sure, there were times when Strauss’s plans backfired in her face -- take Emily Prentiss, for instance, a tremendous asset to the BAU, but it didn’t get any less under Hotch’s skin.

Hotch  _ knew _ he has nothing to worry about. The disorganization Strauss thought she saw with the team was just another characterization of how well the team worked together. Why fix what’s not broken? 

In the beginning, Hotch took it as a personal insult that the team’s involvement was feared as a threat to the unit, but now, it was more of an inconvenience. As Derek put it best, Strauss was like a fly the team couldn’t stop swatting away. 

Hotch was in his office bright Friday morning; he was grateful for the slow week. Penelope hadn’t gathered anyone yet, for a case. He could catch up on the nitty-gritty of what his job entailed; internally, he called that bullshit. 

Hotch had been in worse parts of his life; sure, he was happy with Beth. He had Jack and the team, but was he satisfied with how his life was at the age of forty-two? No. 

At times he looked at his life and thought it was quite pathetic. He was a widow right before he hit thirty. He questioned his ability to be a good father almost on the daily -- somedays hourly. But his team? The BAU? All of his time and energy went to them; it was nearly impossible for him not to be doing his best. 

Sifting through piles of paperwork, Hotch’s phone rang. Looking down, it was Beth. Beth was wonderful. He couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend, especially for someone like himself, but he always felt something missing. 

He always noticed the pause after each sentence she’d say, announcing a big move or business trip. He knew anyone in his position would have asked her to stay. But Beth was like the silent presence he liked, coming from Haley, who was quite the opposite of how much of a busybody Beth was. Beth never nagged him about his late hours or odd schedule, but he never did with hers again. He didn’t mind it. 

He often wondered if that was just how it was supposed to be, the comfortable silence and company. Boring at times but comforting when needed. But there was never that part of him who wanted her to stay the extra night or not leave on a business trip.

“Hotchner,” Hotch answered the phone out of habit; he pushed his chair back from his desk, leaning back with the phone against his ear. 

“Are you ever going to get less formal with me, Aaron?” 

He smiled softly, “How are you?” 

“I’m alright,” Beth sighed, “My trip here to New York is going to be a lot longer than I expected,” She paused, almost waiting for Hotch to respond. 

“Oh,” Hotch said, “Well, you love New York,” He chuckled, “That’s a plus.”

He thought he heard Beth let out a disappointed sigh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Before he could respond, he heard three steady knocks on his door, “I gotta go, but I’ll talk with you later?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, then hung up. 

“Agent Hotchner,” Speak of the devil, herself, Strauss.

He felt his skin crawl. Even the way the woman dressed screamed ‘old school FBI,’ how her suit was tailored looked nothing like the sorts he saw younger agents wear. Most didn’t wear calf-length skirts and have their hair curled under, but he wasn’t about to profile Erin Strauss starting with her wardrobe choices right now. Her attitude? Definitely.

“Come in,” Hotch said, putting the phone back down, looking up to her, walking in with a file in her hands, “How do you do?” 

“You’re still collecting the files from last week’s case,” She raised an eyebrow at him, looking in the direction of the pile of manilla folders stacked neatly in front of him.

“We’re down an agent since Prentiss left, Ma’am,” Hotch said, showing irritation already in his voice. His thumb and his pointer finger worried together, waiting for the woman to spit out whatever bullshit she had to spew. 

“Would you say it’s the clerical work that is keeping you behind, Agent Hotchner?” 

“That’s definitely part of it,” Hotch said, for once agreeing with Penelope, the bureau really should be moving over to digitalized files. Again --- old school. 

Strauss began handing Hotch a folder, “Here,” Hotch raised an eyebrow at her, “Y/N Y/L/N,” she sighed, “The BAU’s personal secretary.” 

Hotch looked up at her with knitted brows, “We don’t need a secretary, Erin,” He scoffed at her, handing her back the file, “Thanks anyway.”

“That wasn’t a question, Agent Hotchner,” Strauss stood firmly, placing her hands on her hips, “Y/N starts Monday.” Before she turned on her heels and left the door. 

Hotch sighed, shaking his head, watching the infuriating woman leave his office. He looked down at the file before closing his eyes tightly, pinching his brow. After taking a deep breath, he flipped open the folder. 

Inside was a photo of you. Young, he thought. Twenty-Five it said. Thoroughly cleared through the bureau, obviously no questions there. Top of your class at a George Washington University, where Hotch got his Juris doctor. Majored in Political Communications and minored in Criminal Justice. 

_ Interesting _ , he thought. 

It also said you were halfway through your master’s program at GWU. You were bright; Hotch couldn’t deny that any other circumstance, he would praise that. But you being handed on a platter as an unexpected part of the team that was extremely unnecessary didn’t make it easy.

Rolling his eyes, not wanting to think about it anymore before his weekend alone with Jack, he closed the file and figured he’d deal with the annoyance come Monday. Deciding to call it an early Friday for once, he gathered his things and headed to Jessica’s house to grab Jack. 

Hotch would say he enjoyed a good weekend off, but good wouldn’t be how he would define this one. He spent his Saturday in Urgent Care with Jack, who badly fractured his ankle in his Saturday morning soccer game, leaving Jack miserable in pain and limping around on crutches and cast. To say he crashed that night early, he  _ did _ . Seven, maybe? 

He woke up Sunday morning to three missed calls from Beth, which was unlike her. He dialed her phone number, reaching her quickly. 

“Beth?” 

“Nice of you to return my calls,” Beth said in a snarky tone, “How was your Saturday?” 

“Yeah,” Hotch sighed, running his hand through his hair, “About that, I meant to call, but got so caught up with Jack, he fractured his leg and,” He felt he was rambling and making excuses, “I should have called.”

“It’s fine,” Beth said softly, “I can come back if you need help,” She asked, the last part sounding eager. 

“No,” Hotch insisted, “God, no. You have work. You have New York.” 

That was when he heard Beth lose her cool for the first time, “Aaron, is there even a  _ place _ for me in your life?” 

He frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I have given you every opportunity to ask me to stay, to come to visit or tell me to leave, and you have not,” She said in frustration, “Aaron, is it too much to ask for you to seem like you care about me.” 

“I-I do care, Beth,” Hotch said, “I just, I’m not going to ask you to leave your job for--”

“I know you wouldn’t in seriousness; I just wish you showed  _ some _ emotion about me being gone.”

Hotch couldn’t argue with her there, which led to awkward silence and Beth ending the call on him. He liked being in control, calling the shots. Saying when a fight was over. It irked him more than it should that Beth blew him off like that. Not because of Beth being Beth, because she was right. He really didn’t care as much as he should, but because Beth knew what she was getting into when she met Hotch, and now she seemed to be ignoring all of that.

So when Monday did indeed come, far too quickly, Hotch dragged his feet into his office. Throwing his bag down, he saw the folder and let out an aggravated sigh. He forgot all about... _ you.  _

It didn’t take long for Strauss to be walking you up into his office. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have the nervous jitters, but you strutted your way up the office, just like you did at any big point in your life. Head held  _ so _ high, you looked like you owned the place. 

You decided on the eggplant-colored suit, figuring that would make a statement...and  _ boy,  _ it did. The teams’ heads turned fast, seeing the young woman confidently walking next to Erin Strauss. 

“Agent Hotchner,” Strauss announced herself, walking in, “This is Y/N Y/L/N,” She gestured to you, “Your secretary.”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” Hotch reached out his hand with a curt smile on his face, “How do you do?” 

You gave him a firm handshake, sharing the same cold, distant smile he gave you, “Pleasure to meet you, Agent.” 

“Y/N is going to be in charge of paperwork, transferring calls to the proper channels, and eventually helping Garcia out with some of the prep work given her studies in the criminal justice field,” Strauss said to Hotch before turning her head towards you, “You’ll direct straight to Agent Hotchner, Y/N. Your desk will be right outside of his office up there on the ledge.” 

“Great,” You responded; before turning back to Hotch, you couldn’t help but feel the tension radiating off of him. He had ‘high strung’ written all over his forehead. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of a wedding ring. In this field, though? Who would want to deal with that anyway? 

“Alright, I will let you two get to work,” Strauss nodded, “Good to see you, Aaron.” 

_ Wish I could say the same _ , Hotch thought but chose to nod instead of voice it. 

He turned his direction back towards you, not being able to hide the tension between his brows. 

“Are you always so serious,” You said playfully, raising an eyebrow at the man, which just seemed to make him more annoyed. 

“I think we should get one thing straight,” Hotch sighed, “I didn’t want or need a secretary.” 

“So are you just paying me for fun,” You quipped with a slight smirk; his face softened a bit then, but still.

“The work we do here is very serious,” Hotch changed the subject, gesturing for you to follow him towards your desk, your folder in his hand, “I most likely won’t have much for you to work on yet; the work will be very dull. Don’t expect much experience from this.” 

Reaching your desk, you looked up to him with the same smirk you had on your face before, “Are you always this serious, Agent Hotchner?” 

“I’ll check back with you in a week and see how you act,” Hotch said in a condescending tone, “There’s paperwork you have to fill out,” He said, passing you your folder, “Fill these; out.” 

  
You took the folder and nodded, “Yes,  _ sir. _ ” Biting back the sarcastic remark you wanted to give to the man whose mere presence stressed you out. 


	2. Chapter Two: They Judge Me Like A Picture Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Happy Tuesday, I hope you are all doing well. I hope you enjoy this long-awaited chapter! I felt a little stumped with this chapter, but I feel like I have a clear direction with this story now! 
> 
> Enjoy!

“That is what you’re wearing today?” 

You looked up to the  _ ever _ approachable Hotch.  _ Not _ . Your first few weeks in, and you had begun to find a routine. Paperwork here, chatting with Derek -- your only friend, there. 

Today was Friday; at any other ‘office job’ you had previously, casual Fridays were a thing. Seeing at the very... _ diversely _ dressed team, you figured wearing something more relaxed than a pencil skirt that was too tight and heels that made your feet ache. 

“What,” You raised an eye at Hotch; you hated that your desk was  _ right _ outside of his office. The man watched you like a hawk. He was just waiting for you to mess up, it felt. 

“Nothing,” Hotch shook his head, “Just an  _ interesting _ choice to be wearing as a secretary for an FBI team.” 

You looked down at your outfit; oversized band tee, jeans, and a leather jacket, “What? You’re not a fan of the Stones,” You pointed at your faded  _ Rolling Stones  _ shirt. Hotch didn’t respond, so you huffed out a sigh, “C’mon,” You said, “You have one person on this team who wears butterfly clips in her hair, another who wears v-neck t-shirts, and then there’s you who never forgets to have his slacks pressed,” You gestured up and down at him. 

“Point taken,” Hotch gave you a curt smile before heading into his office for the day. You watched as he walked away, shaking your head. There was something about that man, and you just  _ couldn’t _ put your finger on it. 

Your days were usually filled with filing and helping Penelope when the team was away on a case. You were in charge of printing out case file information, information on the hotel they would be staying in on a case, filing expenses, and various things for the team. It was relatively easy to work. Half of the time, you were just bored, when Hotch wasn’t breathing down your neck, you could stick your feet up and take a breath, but when he was right behind you in that office of his, you always busied yourself. 

It was a pretty slow Friday; you were finishing up on entering some information that read like gibberish to you on the computer. Even your slight background with criminal justice didn’t prepare you for all of the technicals you didn’t understand about the FBI.

You had turned in everything you needed to, to Hotch with just enough time, and was feeling pretty confident in how you were getting the hang of things. You were tapping your pen against the desk top before Hotch startled you, dropping a file in front of you. 

“What’s this,” You looked up, wide-eyed. 

“The file you gave me from earlier,” He said, his voice thick with annoyance; judging by the look on his face, furrowed brows, and all, he was not happy. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Our team really cannot afford to have mistakes, Y/N,” Hotch said in a condescending tone, “Just fix it.” 

You frowned, watching him walk back into his office. Taking a deep breath, you looked down at the file and began redoing and fixing your errors. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You never were very good with authority, nevermind when someone raises their voice at you. 

It took you longer than you would like to finish the file, given your mind kept wandering to his dismissive words. Hotch was seriously not the welcoming type. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” You looked up and saw the familiar face of Erin Strauss, the woman who hired you. You gave her a small smile as you watched her enter Hotch’s office. Looking back down at the words that seemed to bleed together in front of you, you couldn’t be more grateful for the upcoming weekend. 

After finally crossing your final T’s, dotting your final I’s, you stood and walked over to Hotch’s office. The door was cracked open, and you could fully hear their conversation.

“Erin, I don’t care,” Hotch said with frustration, “Having too many hands on a case is bound for failure-”

“She’s hardly touching cases, Aaron.” 

“You know as well as I do that we have a system here; if one thing is delayed, it’s all delayed,” You figured you had enough, so you opened the door, walking in and not caring that you didn’t knock. 

“Here’s that  _ file _ ,” You tossed it onto Hotch’s desk, avoiding his eye contact; you knew his face would just make you burst out in tears. You hated being  _ disliked _ . You knew, even in a perfect world, not everyone was going to like you, but the fact that your boss seemed to despise just your general existence put you on edge. 

The two of them were quiet; you gave Strauss a curt nod before leaving and returning to your desk to finish up everything before the night was over. 5 p.m. couldn’t come soon enough. You were grateful that the next few hours seemed to fly but also glad Hotch never left his office again, just Strauss, who bid you a good weekend.

  
  
  
  


“Hey kid,” You looked up to see Derek’s familiar face standing at your desk, “What are you up to?” 

“Finishing up filing these expense reports,” You lifted the hefty file, “How about you?” 

“We’re all about to finish up and head out of here,” He gestured to the door, “On weeks we don’t have much going on, we all try to grab dinner and drinks on Fridays, you down to join?” 

You pondered the thought for a second, sure you liked Derek. He was friendly and welcoming, but the rest of the team, besides Penelope, who at times stressed you out with her overly zealous personality, you didn’t know very well. 

Knowing Hotch most likely wouldn’t be there, it would be the crew closer to your age, you decided to join. 

“Sure, why not,” You shrugged, “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

You were seriously tight on money this week, almost missing rent. Sure, the paychecks from working as a secretary for the BAU were helping, but between student loans, rent, and just the cost of living, your wallet was crying -- Not to mention your expensive shopping habit. 

You figured you would find the cheapest thing on the menu and just grab that and pray your card would not decline. 

“Mind if I carpool with one of you guys,” You asked Derek, “It’ll be better than walking,” You smiled softly.

“You walk to work?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded, Derek gave you a face, “Don’t give me that look,” You pouted at Derek, “Student loans and an apartment outside of DC is not cheap.” 

“Says the one with a bag that’s more expensive than my rent.” You frowned as he pointed at the bag, “I know designer when I see it, baby girl,” He laughed, “You do you, you’ve got good taste.” 

You smiled, but before you could respond, Hotch walked out of his office, briefcase in hand, “Y/N, you can ride with me,” You looked at him surprised, “You’re apartments on my way home.” 

“How do you --”

“FBI,” Derek laughed, “He probably had to go over your last google search to clear you.” 

“I’m afraid that was all Strauss,” Hotch said, “But I did recognize the street on your file.” 

_ “Right _ , ‘cause you don’t even want me here,” You said in an annoyed tone, and Hotch looked less than amused, “What? You’ve made it pretty clear my presence here is unneeded.” 

“It’s not that--”

“It’s kind of true, Hotch,” Derek said; Hotch shot him a look. Derek threw up his hands in innocence, “I’ll shut up. I’ll see you guys at the restaurant- ” 

“Are you ready,” Hotch asked, moving on from the topic. You couldn’t help but notice the slight annoyance in his tone. 

“Yes, sir,” Keeping it formal, you picked up your bag and coat as he began walking towards the door, you followed. 

Hotch’s car is everything you expected to be. It still smelt new, which meant he didn’t smoke, bring fast food home, and took care of it. Nevermind, it was so clean, you probably could eat off the floor of it. It didn’t take a profiler to see that. You didn’t think Hotch was one for the radio, so to your surprised when _ The Beatles’ White Album  _ started playing. 

His car wasn’t overly fancy, but you noted the heated seats, leather interior, and the built-in screen -- All of it add ons to the vehicle. 

“So, do you guys go out often,” You asked, trying to break the awkward silence. You still had to work with the man; Strauss seemed to think you were an asset, as his superior; that’s all that mattered. 

“When we can,” Hotch said, only one hand on the wheel, “I usually don’t join them, but Prentiss, Morgan, and Garcia tend to.” 

“But tonight, you decided to,” You raised an eyebrow at him; you saw him look out the corner of his eye. 

“Have to welcome the new member of the team,” He said, his voice almost optimistic, you mustered up a smile to that, but his eyes never left the road, “Then again, my son is with his aunt for the night.” 

“How old?” 

“Eight,” Hotch said, “I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like to.”   


“I’m sure,” You said quickly, “It’s a busy job.” 

You were grateful the car ride wasn’t much longer; arriving at the restaurant, you hopped out of the car first, throwing your bag over your shoulder. 

Hotch held the door open for you as you all walked in; the front table at the restaurant was filled with familiar faces of the BAU. 

Rossi, who sat at the head of the table, stood, “Bellissima!” 

“They’re  _ eager _ to get to know you,” Hotch said quietly so only you could hear, the two of you walked towards the table, and you were instantly greeted with a hug from Penelope. 

Almost jumping at her forceful hug, “Hi, love,” Penelope said, letting you go, leaving the smell of cotton candy filling your senses, “Take a seat!” 

You sat next to Hotch during the dinner, which was Italian, per Rossi’s choice. You couldn’t help but notice the little idiosyncrasies each team member had. Hotch was mostly quiet, the fearless leader taking in all of the team’s comments. 

“You’ve really got your own team of misfit toys here,” You whispered to him, elbowing his arm. 

Hotch scoffed a laugh, “You’re not wrong there.” 

The night went by smoothly; every now and then, you would add to the conversation but mostly just took it all in, adding your unnecessary comments silently to Hotch. With a drink or two in both of you, you had almost forgotten about the tense day and awkwardness you were leaving behind. 

When the check came, you twinged a bit at your total. You had to expect the men who wore Armani suits wouldn’t be eating at an Olive Garden. Placing your debit card with the bill, you prayed that it went through. 

Thankfully it did, and after the team bid their goodbyes, you and Hotch were on your way to your car before your phone started ringing. You looked down, and the caller ID was your landlord. 

_ “Shit,”  _ You cursed under your breath; Hotch looked at you with a frown. 

“Everything good,” He asked with concern. 

“Yeah,” You said, not looking up from the phone, “It’s my landlord,” You raised the phone to him. 

“Take your time,” He said, walking towards the call; he leaned against it, waiting for you to finish your call. 

“Hello,” You said to your landlord, the older man who was the bane of your existence. He always seemed to have a problem with every single thing you did. He wouldn’t let you paint the place or even put nails in the wall to hang photos. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” The landlord said, “Your rent payment is past due.” 

“I know; I apologize,” You said, trying to hide the frustration in your voice, “I will have it by Monday, I promise.”

“You said that last month,” He said with an annoyance in his tone, “If there is no payment by tomorrow at 9 AM, the eviction will be in order.” 

“What,” You raised your voice, you saw Hotch’s eyes look over to you then from where he stood against the car, “You can’t do that.” 

“Oh, yeah, darling, I can,” The man said firmly, “Payment in my mailbox tomorrow morning, or you’ll be packing your bags.” 

The landlord hung up then; you looked down at your phone in awe. You couldn’t believe the audacity of the man; then again, you were living in his place late on rent. 

You let out a frustrated sigh as you walked back towards the car where Hotch stood. 

“All good?” 

You nodded, reaching for the passenger door, “My landlord’s just an ass, that’s all.” You both got into the car then, buckling up. 

“A bigger ass than I was earlier,” Hotch laughed, “I just wanted to apologize for you walking in on that earlier.” 

“Honestly, it’s nothing,” You reassured, “But yes, he is a bigger ass than anyone I have ever met.” 

“What’s wrong,” Hotch asked as you began your drive home, “If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Oh, you know,” You said sarcastically, “Just being threatened to get evicted. The usual.” 

Hotch looked at you concerned, not picking up on the sarcasm and ways of joking about coping, “Evicted?” 

“Yeah,” You sighed, “I was late on rent this month.” 

“Oh,” Hotch said quietly, pulling up to your apartment building. 

“Thanks again for the ride,” You said, smiling before unbuckling your seat belt.

“Anytime,” Hotch said, “Have a good weekend, Y/N.” 

“You too,” You smiled, getting out and closing the passenger door behind you.

You spent your night scrambling in every nook and cranny of your apartment, looking for whatever spare change you had lying around. You would be short this month but not evicted, hopefully. 

After coming up with $800 out of the $1,200 you needed, you called it a night and went to bed. Only to be woken up on your Saturday, bright and early, to a phone call from your landlord. 

“I will have the payment down to you --” 

“Y/N, you overpaid me $300,” Your landlord said, and you sat up in your bed quickly, frowning. 

“Huh?” 

“The cash you put in my mailbox last night?” 

You tried to think quick; the only person who knew about your rent being late was Hotch. He wouldn’t pay for that. He couldn’t. You wouldn’t let him. The thought of that was too much to handle, but for the time being, you were off the hook. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: What did you all think? I love, love, love feedback! Means a lot! <3
> 
> I just wanted to thank my friends Alycia (baubadass), Morgan (emilyhotchwhore), and Gabriella (hotchsdirtycumslut) for all of their help in this story. They all have fantastic stories; I truly believe you guys will love! Thank you, besties :)


	3. Chapter Three: She always takes it black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see!! I am back with another chapter FINALLY! So sorry this took so long! I have been really overwhelmed with school lately, so a lot of my free time goes to that. I am kinda torn with this book’s direction, so feedback is always wonderful and much appreciated! 
> 
> This chapter isn’t very long, but it has some points in it you might like! 
> 
> Also, if you do not already follow me on TikTok, please do! I post a lot on there, and a lot of my time goes there as well! Haha! I am: ssa.ki99
> 
> Enjoy! Xx 

Monday came slowly; you sat up in bed that night and stared at your popcorn ceiling, wondering why Hotch would do such a thing. Scraping up the rest of the money, you took your belongings and began your walk to work an hour early Monday morning. 

Pushing through the doors of the BAU, not surprisingly, you were the only one there. Hotch was in early, as always. You power walked into his office, not even bothering to knock. 

“Why did you pay for my rent,” You accused. Hotch looked up from the files in front of him with both surprise and annoyance on his face.

“Excuse me,” Hotch raised an eyebrow at you, dropping the pen in his left hand. 

“My rent,” You repeated, “You overheard my conversation and paid my rent for me,” You shook your head, “I’m not some charity case.” 

“I never said you were,” He replied quickly, crossing his hands in front of him on the desk, “Y/N, it wasn’t that --”

“It is a big deal, Hotch,” You threw your hands up, “What do you just carry around that kind of cash,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “So here,” You reached in your back pocket, “Here is everything I owe you.” You reached out the wad of cash. 

Hotch didn’t look at the cash, nor did he reach for it. Continuing to look at you, his expression didn’t change. 

“I’d be happy to write this off on the BAU expense report if it bothers you that much--”

“Write it off? No. Hotch, I want to pay you back every penny of it.” 

Hotch sighed then, knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere to appease you in this conversation, “Y/N,” He said, “You’re not putting me out by me helping you out like that,” his tone softer now, “I have some,” he paused, looking away from your gaze, “extra money from investments and I wanted to help.” 

The crease between your brows flattened, your shoulders relaxed as you listened. You put your hand down. 

“And, after the way we started,” Hotch said, “I figured it was the least I can do to help a member of this team out.”

“O-Oh,” Your voice felt smaller now, the abrasive manner you walked in here with now fading, “If this is a problem, I can pay you back, honestly--”

“Y/N,” Hotch sighed, “It’s not,” He closed the file and handed it to you, “Here, this is what needs to be filed for today,” changing the subject, you reached for the file. 

“Alright,” You nodded, turning on your heels to leave. 

“And, Y/N?” 

You turned back to see him, his brows raised. 

“Come to me if you need anything,” He said, his tone softer than you’d ever heard before, “I mean it.” 

You didn’t know how to react, so you took a deep breath and nodded, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Of course,” He said, “Have those to me by 11 am, please,” He said, returning to his paperwork. 

Turning around again, you hummed then thought, maybe your boss Aaron Hotchner wasn’t so bad after all. 

You made sure, just to make it up to him, you worked extra hard today. You even had those papers on his desk a half-hour before eleven. He didn’t say much to it, but a content “thank you” and a smile, which was new. 

Deciding to grab lunch out, you told the team you would be right back as Hotch was in a meeting. A coffee shop was around the corner, so you settled on a bagel and coffee. Thinking about the kind gesture from Hotch, you decided to grab him a coffee as well. It was the least you could do, you thought.

Returning to the BAU, the rest of the team was consumed in god knows what. You tried to keep your involvement in the deadly and gruesome business to a minimum. Noticing Hotch was back in his office, you walked up and knocked. 

“Come in,” Hotch said, turning the knob on the door you walked in with coffees in hand and the bag with your bagel under your arm. 

“Here,” You handed him the warm paper cup; he frowned at first, then reached for it, “A thank you and a peace offering.” 

Hotch laughed then, not protesting with you, “Thank you,” He took a sip of the coffee, “How did you know how I take my coffee?” 

“Good guess,” You smiled, “You seemed like a ‘take it black’ kind of guy,” You teased.

“You’ve been hanging around profilers too long,” Hotch laughed, “Sit,” he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. 

You frowned, “No, you don’t have to, I was just going to eat my--”

_ “Sit _ ,” Hotch repeated, “I was about to eat lunch as well.” 

“O-Okay,” You nodded, sitting in the chair, putting your coffee on his desk. 

“How do you take yours,” He nodded towards your cup.

“Black,” You laughed, pulling out your bagel, “You want half?” 

“Uh,” He thought about it, “Sure,” he laughed as you handed him the other half of the bagel, “Sounds better than reheated frozen pizza.” 

“You don’t seem like the frozen pizza type,” You raised an eyebrow before taking a bite of your bagel.

“You don’t seem like the ‘take it black’ kinda girl,” He quipped. 

“Touche.” 

And that’s how it started. Every day, Hotch and you would have lunch together. Considering the two of you were used to having it alone, the days he was at the BAU office, you would. You stayed back when the team was away on a case, but you would meet in his office at noon when he was here. 

Getting to know Aaron Hotchner, aside from the stoic man that resided in the room behind your desk, was quite the treat. The man you transferred calls to was quite funny. You witnessed the same guy make grown men nervous by his stern voice was quite gentle and kind.

Today was one of those days where you ate lunch alone. The team was away on a case, so it was just you in the office’s central part. Penelope was hard at work in her “bat cave,” but by the growling your stomach made, you felt it was time for lunch. 

Walking back from the copy room, you couldn’t wait to open your bag and eat whatever you scraped together this morning to eat. 

“Y/N!” 

You turned halfway across the bullpen, “Anderson! Hey!” 

Anderson walked closer to you with a plastic bag in his hands, “Here, this was delivered for you.”

You frowned, “I didn’t order anything.” 

“I wouldn’t let it go to waste,” He laughed, “It’s from that really great restaurant down the street,” Taking the bag, you reached down and saw there was a small note attached to the bag, “If you don’t want it, I will--” 

“Thanks, Anderson,” You smiled, turning with the bag and note in hand, you began reading what it said and who it was from. 

_ Figured this might be better than whatever leftovers you tried to disguise as food.  _

Hotch.

You frowned, slightly confused by the action and just confused by  _ all _ of his actions. 

You were beginning to think you gave Aaron Hotchner the  _ wrong _ impression. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sooooo….what did you guys think?! This book has me STRESSING over how to take it, cause it could go two different ways COMPLETELY. Do share your thoughts!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Til next time!


	4. Chapter Four: Think you’d suit me fine, want you all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope you all are doing alright, I apologize for my inactiveness here, but I have been going through some stuff personally. I was happy to write and escape for a bit, though! 
> 
> I think you guys will really like this chapter, or at least I hope you will! 
> 
> If you have not already, check out my TikTok: ssa.ki99 
> 
> Enjoy xx

The remainder of the case went on; you were still left behind in confusion. Why was your boss, your  _ superior _ , buying you lunch, paying for your goddamn  _ rent _ . The man was hot one second and cold the next. His emotions had you whiplashed. 

Sure, you  _ ate  _ the ‘sugar daddy-ish’ lunch, and  _ sure _ you didn’t argue further that the man just dropped a little over a grand without batting an eyelash for his  _ secretary _ , but  _ still _ . Still. Boss. Supervisor. Older man.

You didn’t see Hotch until days later; you walked in one morning and saw the light on in his office. Deciding to confront him and get things clear up front, you straightened your tight pencil skirt and made your way towards his office, dropping your bags at your desk beforehand. 

You knocked three times before hearing a soft, “Come in.” 

“Hotch, we need to talk.” 

Hotch was standing, head in a file of what you assumed was more gruesome truths of this job. He looked up, frowning at your tone. 

“Excuse me?” 

This felt all too familiar to the  _ last _ time you barged into this office of his. 

“What is your angle here, Hotch?” 

“My angle,” He placed the file down on his desk, confusion displayed all over his face.

“Yes,” You agreed, “Your angle, Hotch,” Your voice held its ground, “You paying for stuff. Sending me lunch. All of it.” 

“What about it,” Hotch asked again, not picking up on what you were saying.

“Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, Hotch,” You couldn’t believe the words were coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t let your confidence falter. 

His eyes grew wide then, “What! No,” He said quickly, “God, no, Y/N,” He shook his head, a look of panic struck over his face, “That wasn’t...no.” 

“O-Okay,” You nodded, “Because I can take care of myself.”

_ False.  _

“Y/N, I apologize if I sent the wrong message,” Hotch ran his hand through his hair, stress written all over his face, “If I made you uncomf-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hotch; I was just curious, that’s all.” 

You didn’t elaborate on that. Hotch didn’t need to know about your interests in your personal life. You had run into these types of situations before, you seemed to attract that type of thing, but you’d never pursued any offers. Sure, older men’s attention was always nice, but it was unnatural; it felt wrong. 

Hotch didn’t feel wrong, but it wouldn’t have been right if you didn’t ask.

“Y/N, I’m your supervisor, and I would never want you to feel uncomfortable by that,” Hotch said, the knot between his brows softening, “Besides, I don’t think my girlfriend would feel great knowing I gave you that sort of expression.” 

_ Girlfriend, hmm _ .

You tried to suppress the disappointment you felt flipping deep in your stomach. You let out a shaky laugh trying to show Hotch you picked up on his lightheartedness. 

“Sorry for accusing you of that,” You shook your head, feeling  _ beyond _ silly now, “I’m gonna get back to my work now,” You gestured out of the door. 

Hotch nodded as you turned to walk out of the door, “Y/N?” 

You turned, “Hm?”

“I’m not going to be receiving any complaints from HR, am I,” Hotch teased, you laughed. 

“No, sir,” You said, “You won’t.” 

“Good,” Hotch said, “Could you have the last case’s expense report on my desk today before lunch?” 

“Sure thing,” You nodded, then walked out, trying to hide the slight sulk you had on your face. You were not going to try and pinpoint why the thought of some sort of promiscuous relationship with Hotch felt so exciting. So  _ thrilling. _

Inside Hotch’s office, it seemed like all day he was arguing -- it only added to your distractions for the day. 

“No,” You looked up and saw Hotch exiting his office, phone to his ear. His voice was raised, “Beth, it is what it is,” he continued; you tried not to show your intent listening, “It’s always something, isn’t it?” 

You watched as he hung up the phone, his face tenser than you’d ever seen it. 

“Y/N,” You jumped a little at his sternness, “Where is that report? It was supposed to be on my desk an hour ago.” 

“Oh,” You scrambled for the file, “Here, sir, I apologize.” 

He took the file out of your hand quickly, not making more interaction with you. He walked back into his office and shut the door loudly that the whole bullpen looked up. 

You shook your head, exhaling as you returned to the rest of your work. You usually had no issue getting through a pile of files; you were not easily distracted, but today? Today your mind was elsewhere. 

“Y/N!”

You jumped again, seeing Hotch standing at his door. What looked like anger now appeared on his face. 

“Y-Yes, sir?” 

“My office, now.” 

You swallowed thickly, standing, you adjusted your skirt and followed him into his office. He stood in front of his desk, arms crossed in front of him. 

“Shut the door,” he said, his tone still heavy as ever. You slid in and shut the door behind you. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Come look at this,” He said, placing a paper on the corner of his desk. You walked towards it, leaning over to read it. You bit your tongue, seeing the glaring and juvenile mistake you made. “Fix it,” Hotch said, handing you a pen. 

His glare was burning with a shaky hand; you took the pen and began writing as you stood over his desk. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time. 

Hotch moved away from the desk and slowly paced behind you; his eyes didn’t leave your back, though. It felt like a predator stalking its prey. 

“Why did you ask me that earlier, Y/N,” Hotch asked you as you continued to write. You looked up and looked over your shoulder, “Turn around and finish writing.” 

You frowned, confused, as you returned to the paper with your pen. You could barely write straight. Your stomach did somersaults as you heard Hotch pace behind you. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch said, “Why did you ask me that earlier?” 

“Ask you what,” You played dumb, knowing what he was talking about. 

“Y/N,” He chastised, “You are a smart girl. You have a bright future. Highly educated, yet you live in the worst apartment in Virginia,” He said; there was a sultriness in the way the words rolled off of his tongue. “Your rent is a third of my mortgage.” 

Your eyes were wider than saucers now, but you continued to do as you were told and finished the report. 

“Sir, I don’t understand.” 

“Did you forget I was a profiler, Y/N?”

“N-No,” You said; you finished the report but still stood there, looking down at the file on his desk. 

“Then you must know I saw the disappointment on your face when my intentions were not what you thought.” 

Your mouth opened and closed then quickly, trying to find words then, but before you could even think of a response, you felt Hotch against your back. Your breath caught in your throat.

Hotch moved the hair off of your shoulder, exposing your neck and ear. His rough, calloused hands caused goosebumps in their wake, “So, Y/N, were you disappointed?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Alrighty….what did you guys think? The next chapter should be EXCITING.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: SOOOOOOO…..what did you guys think?! Please, please, please let me know! I love hearing from you guys!


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